Sunny Days in DC

Jack of All Trades, Master of 3-ish.

These are my Whore-Pants

on December 11, 2012

You know what’s nice about being a part of a sub-culture? You can kinda walk between the dominant culture, and still make fun of your own culture.

That’s the experience I had this past weekend when my husband and I took Max to visit my dad and step-mom. They’re orthodox Jews. From Brooklyn. That’s like, Heart of Darkness shit right there.

Now, as many know, moms actually use our kids as ice breakers (whatever! Don’t judge me! I’m socially awkward!), by basically taking our mute children up to each other and having pretend conversations.

“Awww, and what’s YOUR name? I’m Max, and I’m five months oooooold….”

“Hi! I’m Bobby-Jim, and I’m three months ooooooooold…”

Then someone throws up. D’awww.

But when we met my dad and step-mom for lunch in a kosher restaurant, I was treated to a reminder that I may be Jewish, but not as Jewish as…

There sat a woman, her (shot in the dark, here) husband, and three boys. The youngest looked to be about Max’s age, so I went over to do the customary “allow me to waggle my child in your child’s face.”

“D’awww! How old is your boy?” I asked, pretending to be interested, but let’s be fair, most kids kinda piss me off except for my own and a select few others.

“Eight months,” she said, without making eye contact.

“Oh. Uhhh. Cute! And what’s his name?”

“Yitzchak.”

“Um….. ok. Well, HI Yitz! This is Max!”

“…”

“Uhhh…. right.” And I walked away.

“What did you expect?” my husband asked. “She’s religious! She could be chastised for even associating with you.”

“But we’re both BREEDERS! We both have bebes! We should bond over that. FEEL THE LOVE!!!! I’M EVERY WOMAN!! DRINK COKE!!!”

“She didn’t like you because of your whore-pants,” my friend added, later.

“My….?”

“You were wearing pants, right? That’s enough for them!”

So there you have it. My whore-y pants came between me, and a possible friendship that will never get the chance to blossom. Max and Yitz will never play together because… I don’t know. Something about G-D and long skirts.

Image

*Not pictured: all the whoring this woman does on her off-time*

Shit like that makes me want to ask her what her favorite brand of nipple clamps is. You know, just to break the ice.

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5 responses to “These are my Whore-Pants

  1. Ki Vault says:

    I read this earlier and have been smiling ever since now I have returned to read it again, you have made my day!

  2. hilarysloan says:

    Heh heh. Whore-pants.

  3. ekgo says:

    Well, think about it, though. Would you want Max to spend the night at Yitz’s house in the future? Because who knows what kind of stuff they’d tell him! And it’s not like you could have deep, meaningful conversations with Yitz’s mommy. She’s probably not allowed to think and certainly not allowed to express her thoughts, especially if they go beyond the household.
    I don’t actually know this. In addition to not being a mom, I’m also lacking in religion, so I might be way off. But, still. May as well assume the worst, right?

    • H. Stern says:

      The sad thing is, she and I would have a TON in common, because I was raised orthodox for a while. And while I don’t agree with her viewpoints (should she ever be so bold as to develop some), I would at least respect her and the friendship. I just think it’s insane. You know, 70 years ago, no Nazi would have looked her and me and thought, “Oh, well, I won’t go for the one in pants, that’s a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT TYPE OF JEW.” Whatever. May her uterus live long and prosper.

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